Dance Lessons
by writergirl2003
Summary: She spent hours at the Corny Collins show each day, but it was always bustling with other people. Now, it was just the two of them.


**YAY! I'm glad you guys are responding to this, even if you think it's weird ) This is a little different from _Show Time_, my last story, but that's a good thing! This one is a little longer, and I hope you like it just as much! I'm already working on another, so I might have it up as early as tomorrow! Please let me know how you guys like this one! I hope you get the last line...it's 3:30 AM as I finished writing it and am uploading it, so if it sounds crazy, let me know, I'll probably have to fix it. Anyway, you know what to do...read and review and you get another story!**

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_Right foot over left, Amber. Cross; then turn. Step to your left, then to your right_. "Left," she murmured the words, trying to get them in order with her footwork, "No, right." She was silent for a moment, and tried to put the words in order in her mind. Her mind raced through the dance instructions, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed at all of the thoughts whirling in her mind. Her mother gave her so many instructions that it was hard to keep them all straight. _Don't wear that to school, Amber, you wore it the week before last; do you want people to think we're poor? Don't laugh at that boy's jokes, Amber; he'll think you're easy. Don't eat that, Amber, God knows it will go right to your thighs. _She couldn't take a breath without her mother telling her she was doing it wrong. She would wake up in the morning, and Velma Von Tussel would be right there, telling her how to fix her hair, what color make-up to put on. Amber would sigh, and roll her eyes, but it didn't affect Velma; she knew what was best for her daughter, and intended to raise her the way she had been raised. _Amber, you'll never be Miss Baltimore Crabs with that attitude_. She was so sick of hearing it. 

So of course, her mother was the reason she was here right now. Amber crossed her arms over her chest, the full skirt of her dress flowed beneath her. She closed her eyes, listening to the clack of the shoes as they made their way across the floor and toward her. She opened her eyes, and glanced around at the studio. She spent hours here at least five days a week, but it was always bustling with the other council members, camera crews, and the indomitable presence of Velma Von Tussel. Now, it was just the two of them.

"Amber," his voice was loud, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She knew he didn't want to be here. Honestly, she didn't either, but what choice did she have? "Are you ready?" His tone told her that he didn't care if she was ready or not.

She nodded, feeling stupid.

"Fine," he neared her, and she was suddenly overcome with the smell of his cologne. She never noticed it during the day; there were so many other people around that there wasn't time to notice much of anything about anyone in particular. "Let's get started then."

She turned to look at him for the first time, and noticed that he looked disheveled. His suit jacket was off, and the cuffs of his shirt were rolled up, revealing his forearms. His tie hung loosely around the collar of his shirt, its top two buttons undone. He looked flustered, and she couldn't help but let her mind wander. He came to stand beside her.

"Okay. This isn't hard, just watch me." He demonstrated a quick step for her, and she attempted to copy it a moment later. From the dejected sigh that came from him, she assumed that she hadn't copied the step exactly as he'd wanted. He moved his feet again, slower this time, in order for her to watch carefully. "Just do exactly what I do."

She tried to get her feet to cooperate, but she felt like she was tied into knots. He stood little more than a foot from her, but she could practically feel his eyes drilling into her. She moved slowly and without any of the ease that should come to a dancer. She felt clumsy and uncomfortable on her feet, and wished that she were somewhere else; or at least with someone else.

"Amber, that's not what I'm doing. Do you see my feet? I don't know why you're making this so hard." His voice was suddenly harsher than it usually was, and for a moment, she was afraid. He was, after all, a grown man. She usually didn't think much of the few years' difference between them, but at this exact moment she felt more like a child than someone who was turning eighteen in just a few short months. She felt herself shrinking, her shoulders slumping as she withdrew into herself. He must have noticed the fear in her body language, because she saw him tense beside her before he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry." He sounded genuine, and in that second he was back to the Corny she knew; the one who flashed his billion dollar smile at the cameras and enjoyed dancing alongside the students on the show. He was no longer frightening.

"I don't know what my mother was expecting," the words spilled out before she had time to consider them, "This is ridiculous."

He was silent beside her, and she wondered if he wasn't saying anything because he knew it was true. The thought of him considering her awkward was embarrassing enough, but his being forced to work with her on his own time was enough to make her ill at ease.

"It's not…" his voice faded, "Amber, you weren't voted Miss Teenage Hairspray three years in a row for no reason. You can dance; you're just…having trouble grasping this particular one."

She didn't say anything, but felt the blush rise in her cheeks. She'd been having trouble grasping almost every dance that had ever been performed on the Corny Collins show. She had never told anyone, but suspected that people knew she often had difficulty learning the dances on the show. That's why they were here, after all. Her mother had overheard someone saying that she didn't know the dances well enough. Of course, she had immediately ordered Amber and Corny into the studio to work on her dancing. He had objected, of course. Velma usually instructed the council on their dances, so why did he need to spend his free time tutoring her? But Velma, being the station manager, had told him in so many words that if he didn't work privately with Amber on her dances, she'd make sure what little time he had left as the host of the show would be miserable.

She bit on her lower lip, and she felt his eyes on her. She glanced around the studio nervously, noticing that only a few of the lights were on. It seemed much bigger in here without the twenty other kids on the show around. Shadows danced across the wall as a light above them flickered. It was so quiet that she heard him moisten his lips with his tongue, and then take another step closer to her.

"Okay, let's just start at the beginning." It seemed simple enough. He came to stand behind her, and lightly placed his fingertips on her hips. The feel of his fingers resting on the silk of her dress sent chills up her spine. She flinched unconsciously, and he pulled away. "Are you alright?" His voice sounded different now; it wasn't as judgmental or impatient as it had been just moments ago.

"I'm fine," she nodded, but her mouth was dry. She glanced at the watch on her left wrist. Her mother wasn't due back to the studio for another hour, but she didn't know if she could last that long. She thought she might pass out any moment. He was literally right behind her now; she could feel his breath on the back of her neck as his hands went to her sides again. She felt her stomach twisting into knots as he cleared his throat. She wondered if he was having a fraction of a hard as time of breathing as she was. She felt his fingertips tense on her hips, and he shifted behind her.

"Okay," he breathed out slowly, and she felt her body tense. "Put your right foot out." He tapped the top of her thigh lightly, as if she didn't know which one he meant. She did as he said, holding her breath as he skimmed his hand back up to her side. "Now step to the right." He made the same motion, and they remained in-step together.

It went on this way for several minutes; he said the words, and would then take the same steps he ordered. He never let his hands stray from their spot on her thin waist, and she continued to hold her breath as they moved. Just minutes later, he released her, and stepped aside.

"I think you're ready to try it on your own." He smiled at her. She wanted to protest; to insist that she _wasn't_ ready, and that he put his hands back where they had been just seconds before, but knew she couldn't. She executed the moves perfectly, and he clapped for her. The sound echoed in the empty building. "Very well, Amber. I think you're ready for the next dance."

She turned to look at him and smiled. She suddenly felt proud of herself, despite the fact that it was a small accomplishment. The other council members had learned the dance in the few hours her mother had spent teaching them, and she'd had extra practice. Her mother wasn't proud of her. It didn't matter how good she looked on the show tomorrow, she would be ashamed that her daughter couldn't grasp the movements without extra help. It was a failure Amber would have to live with for years to come. But right now, that didn't seem to matter. He was proud of her, and that made her proud. It was an odd feeling, accomplishment. Everything she had was usually either handed to her, or gotten by her mother.

He came to stand directly in front of her, and she sucked her breath in. It was just a dance; it didn't matter that he was mere inches from her body, or that he was clutching her just a little tighter than she thought was necessarily required. She glanced up at him, and their eyes met. She felt heat rush through her body, and looked away quickly. She couldn't be completely sure, but she thought she felt him pull her closer then, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She hoped that she wasn't the only one feeling this attraction between them. She knew Corny was nothing if he wasn't professional, but God, she couldn't stop the feelings that were mounting within her.

They started the next dance lessons, and she caught on quickly. There was something about the way his hips moved as he taught her that made it incredibly easy to copy. His hands sometimes moved from her hips to her own hands, to teach her exactly what to do with them while she moved her feet. Suddenly, she was moving like the other girls on the show, her feet no longer tripping over themselves. He stepped back again, and watched as she did the entire routine. It was strange, with no music, only the steady sound of his breath and his occasional clapping, but his praise inspired her to keep going, and when she was done, she took a melodramatic bow, smiling up at him.

"Thanks, Corny." She hated the way she sounded when she spoke to him. When she talked to Link, or any of the girls at school, she felt powerful, like she was in control of the situation. When she conversed with Corny, she felt so young, even immature.

"You're welcome," he responded. "You're not the one who made me come in here, though. I hope your mother is happy."

"My mother is never happy." She wasn't completely sure why she said it, or what she meant by it, but it caught his attention. He looked taken aback by her words. The look on his face made her want to say more, so she went with it. "I don't think I've ever seen her smile unless she is making fun of someone." She immediately regretted her words. They hung in the quiet of the building, and she waited for him to say something sarcastic back to her. After all, he knew she was no angel; there was barely a day that went by that she didn't make some kind of snide comment on the show. She tried to cover up her blunder. "She's ashamed of me."

She felt her jaw tighten, and had to look away from him. She hated crying over her mother, the woman who had raised her to be the same prima donna she herself was. She often wondered if her mother was even capable of feeling love for another person, but that was always in the privacy of her bedroom, and in the dark of the night. Not in public, and definitely _not_ in front of Corny Collins.

"She's not ashamed of you," he was still feet away from her, but his voice was sympathetic. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

She heard his words, but it was hard to believe them. He didn't know her mother like she did. Any sign of imperfection was unconceivable and unacceptable, even for her daughter. She didn't answer him, and kept her head down. She heard him approaching her, and his hand reached out to touch her arm. She looked up at him, widening her eyes to keep the tears at bay. His brows furrowed when he saw the glossy look in her eyes.

"Amber." He suddenly sounded defensive, "She has _nothing_ to be ashamed of about you." His brown eyes studied her face, and his hand was still on her arm. She nodded, trying to make him believe that she was convinced. Her mother had spent eighteen years telling her otherwise; she doubted that a few kind words from Corny were going to change that. She chewed on her lip, looking at the lapel of his suit as he stood in front of her. He slowly moved his hand, tickling the skin on her arm as he did so. The sensation literally took her breath away. He didn't seem to notice.

"Why should she be ashamed? You're popular, you're beautiful. Every boy that sees you falls in love with you immediately." He half smiled at her. "Isn't that her goal in life? For you to get as far as you can by knowing all the right men?"

"I'm not like my mother, Corny. I don't need a man to get what I want." She felt angry suddenly, and the tone she used reminded her of her mother. Everything she did reminded her of her mother, and she hated it. Every time she looked into the mirror, she only saw her mother's reflection. Now, it appeared everyone saw the same thing when they looked at her.

"That's not what I meant," he pulled his hand away from her, but didn't step back. "I don't think you are like her." If she wasn't mistaken, he was breathing harder now. He was watching her face intently, waiting for her to look at him. When she did, he moved his head toward hers, their faces only inches apart. She didn't want to move, but was too afraid not to. She felt her chest heaving, and recognized the heavy beating of her heart in her chest.

"I shouldn't-" she heard herself beginning to protest, but stopped. "This probably isn't right."

"But do you want it?" He had asked a loaded question, and his lips were mere centimeters from hers now. He was waiting for her to say it, waiting to hear the words; that it was okay to kiss her. He wouldn't make another move until she told him to.

All the reasons not to do it ran through her mind. There was Link, of course, whose class ring still hung like a medal around her neck. There were reasons of morality; he was a few years older than her, and was practically her mentor. There was her mother, whose voice she could hear in her head: _Amber! This is completely unacceptable! This is Corny Collins. He is not a judge, or one of your superiors. He does not control your career, I do. Do not think for one second that he can get away with this-_

"Shut up, Mother," she said the words aloud, and pulled him closer. His lips met hers in an instant, and he ravaged her mouth. His hands moved to the small of her back, and he pulled her closer as he kissed her. She was surprised by his aggressiveness; she never would have guessed that he was so passionate. He kissed her until they were both breathless, and then moved to the base of her neck, making a trail with his lips up to her earlobe. She didn't move to stop him, because she didn't _want_ him to stop. She had his hands in hers now, and she was encouraging him to go farther. She wanted him to hold her, fondle her, maybe more. She knew that she wanted this.

They kissed for another moment, and then heard the unmistakable click of high-heels on the studio floor. He pulled away from her hurriedly, smoothing his suit and wiping the lipstick from his face as she hurried to close the two top buttons he had undone on her dress. Velma was in sight suddenly, staring expectantly at both of them.

"Are we done?" She asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Amber nodded, and Velma turned to go, calling the words over her shoulder as she walked, "I suspect you taught my daughter everything she needs to know?" It wasn't a statement, it was a question.

"Of course not _everything_, Velma. I'd have to have more time with her for that."


End file.
